


It Hurts to be Okay

by captchaluff



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dissociation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Human squip, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Michael doesn't deserve this, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, not really a fun read lmao, this is a vent fic if you couldn't tell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-12 03:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15986462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captchaluff/pseuds/captchaluff
Summary: When Jeremy ditches Michael to be best friends with a rich college kid, Michael knows he has to save Jeremy before someone gets hurt- but when he overhears something he really, really wishes he hadn't, he learns that Jeremy might need more saving than he thought.





	1. You Run Away With the Love That You Gave Me

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I know it says Hurt/Comfort, but we're not gonna get into the comfort zone for a while, so be prepared to just hurt for a while.
> 
> Second of all, there is a non-explicit rape scene in this chapter, involving an adult and a teenager. Please don't read this if that may trigger you. Your mental health is more important than this dumbass vent fic.

Michael waited in the bathtub of that goddamn party for well over an hour, having to listen to 13 people piss, 5 people shit, and at least 3 couples make out. This was not his idea of a good time, especially not because there was some weird mold on the drain that he swore was steadily creeping up to his sneakers. But Jeremy has to pee sometime, right?

Unless Eric Goddamn Skipp has somehow fixed Jeremy’s bladder so it self cleans. With how much the guy brags about being a Bioengineering major, Michael doesn’t doubt the possibility.

Eric Skipp was some guy who’d graduated from Middleborough a few years ago. His dad is the CEO of SQUIP, some weird biotech company in Japan, so he’s super rich, and everyone seems to worship the ground he walks on- Jeremy included. The teachers at Middleborough let him hang around because he was valedictorian or some shit, and as soon as they met, Jeremy left Michael in the dust to follow Eric around like a lost puppy.

Well, not anymore. Michael’s been doing some digging, asking his warcraft buddies, turning Incognito Mode on when necessary, and he could be Jenna Rolan with how much dirt he has on SQUIP… Granted, there’s almost no solid proof and it’s all secondhand info, but it’s gotta be enough to convince Jeremy that Eric’s bad news.

Like did he know that there are more sexual harassment lawsuits against Mr. Skipp per year than any other CEO in the world? That their employees are almost entirely male? The questionable ethics and possible human experimentation? Michael has about 10 pages of this shit in his Google Docs that he is ready to let out.

Right when he was about to give up and leave, the door swung open and Michael ducked down behind the shower curtain, resigned to listen to some drunk guy miss the toilet, when he heard two disturbingly familiar voices.

“I heard you stutter out there, Jeremy. It’s like you _want_ me to look like an imbicile for associating with you.” That cold, calculating monotone was definitely Eric. God, he sounded so much like a robot, it sent a shiver down Michael’s spine.

“I’m sorry, sir-“ Jeremy started, only to be cut off with a harsh slap.

“Down. Shirt off.” There was the sound of a belt unbuckling, and for a brief, terrifying moment Michael was convinced Jeremy had gotten roped into some weird sex thing, but through the mirror he could see Eric’s very much clothed back, much to his relief.

Then his blood ran cold when he realized Eric was holding both ends of his belt in one hand.

Michael could barely turn away before he heard the first sickening _crack_ , and then another, and another. Somehow, Jeremy didn’t make a sound, not a single whimper, until Eric addressed him.

“What did you do wrong, Jeremy?”

“I st-stuttered.” _Crack._ “I stuttered.” _Crack._ “I stuttered, sir.”

There was no impact afterwards- maybe Eric had deemed it was satisfactory, which felt fucked up to Michael on so many levels- but instead he asked, “What else?”

Jeremy didn’t immediately answer, which warranted another hit. “I don’t know, sir,” resulted in the same outcome. Desperate to find his error, Jeremy listed off every mistake he could possibly have made, from eating too much of the cheese dip to not sleeping with Chloe Valentine, only to be hit again and again and  _again._

Eventually Eric must have felt satisfied, because he stopped whipping at Jeremy and rubbed his bloody back almost tenderly.

“It sounds to me like you haven’t been very good today, have you?” Eric asked with a smirk on his face.

“No, sir,” Jeremy replied obediently.

“I’m not sure you’re worth my time after all…” He made to leave, but Jeremy, still on the ground, grabbed at his heels.

“Please forgive me, sir, I’ll do anything, please! I can’t do anything without you, please don’t- please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, alright,” Eric sighed, like this was a chore instead of deliberate manipulation, “I’ll keep you around, but you have to do something for me in return, don’t you, Jeremy?”

In a small, resigned voice, Michael heard Jeremy almost whisper “Whatever you want, sir.” And then Jeremy was silent.

It took a second to dawn on Michael what exactly was happening. There were sounds- a zipper, the toilet seat closing, a soft sigh- but no more talking, to Michael’s relief. For just a moment he glanced back to the mirror to see if the coast was clear-

Oh. That explained some things.

Michael felt his face heat up, a feverish adrenaline pulsing through him, telling him to get out, get away, but he couldn’t, he knew it was impossible, all he could do was stare at the weird mold and try not to cry and try not to _hear them._

But no matter how hard he tried, Michael could still hear Eric’s emotionless voice. mocking Jeremy with lies, things no one deserves to hear; that he’s worthless, just a whore, too stupid for anything else. Michael hoped that Jeremy didn’t actually believe any of this- but that hope, and that anger, and his own fear, they all faded into something distant and numb.

He understood that something horrible was happening, to someone else, on the other side of the curtain, but Michael suddenly didn’t care. He couldn’t remember smoking but he felt high, dizzy, almost incorporeal. Maybe none of this was happening, maybe it’s all a dream, or a weed-and-alcohol-induced hallucination. That’s the only explanation his drifting mind could come up with.

Through the haze Michael heard Jeremy say “Thank you, sir.” He heard the door open and close again. He stepped out of his hiding place and Jeremy was on the floor, alone, staring at the wall in his ridiculous cyborg costume.

Jeremy looked up and just barely acknowledged Michael’s presence. In return, Michael muttered the most sincere apology he could muster, handed him a towel, and left before his mind could catch up and process all the fuckedupbadbadfuckedup that just happened.


	2. Deep Inside my Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Group projects sure are horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't remember writing half of this chapter but it turned out okay so i'm publishing it anyways
> 
> tw: discussion of rape and abuse between an adult and a minor, vague description of a panic attack, Jeremy blaming himself

Michael snapped out of his stupor at 3 AM the next morning, jerking out of bed in a cold sweat- Jeremy was in trouble. Like, a serious crisis that had nothing to do with video games or getting Christine to like him. Eric was- was _taking advantage_ of him in the most horrible way possible, and Jeremy was in too deep to see anything wrong with it, had practically begged for it, even.

Before his brain could catch up, his body was already darting across the bed. Even after being ignored for so long, Michael still had Jeremy’s number in his speed dial, for better or for worse.

It rang once, twice, three times… four times… six…

_“Mmmhello?”_

Michael was so shocked at Jeremy’s voice that he forgot to say anything for a moment.

_“Uh, hello? Is anyone there?”_

What was he supposed to say in this situation? What could he possibly do to fix this?

Jeremy hung up a few seconds later, leaving Michael to stare at his phone, unable to stop the tears welling in his eyes. There were no words of encouragement on his tongue, no heroic entrances he could make that would stop Jeremy from being hurt again. He was powerless.

 

Michael sat down next to Jeremy during AP Lit in what could only be considered a social suicide attempt. Jeremy was too busy thumbing through The Scarlett Letter to even realize at first- it was only after a good thirty seconds of intense staring on Michael’s end that Jeremy finally made eye contact, dropping both his jaw and the book he was holding.

“You can’t be here,” he whispered, darting his eyes around the room, like they could be arrested for even having this conversation.

“This is my class, too,” Michael replied.

“No, I mean,” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “You can’t sit there. Rich sits there.”

“Technically, we don’t have assigned seats. I can sit wherever I want.”

“Michael-”

Whatever Jeremy was about to say next was cut off by the bell, and any further discussion was derailed by Rich barreling through the door right as the bell finished ringing.

“I’m not late!” Rich yelled into the silent room. Mrs. Kowaleski was not amused.

Ten minutes and one lecture later, Rich was sent to In-School Suspension, and any excuse Jeremy had to kick Michael out of his seat had flown out the window.

“Now that that’s dealt with, we can start class,” Mrs. Kowaleski began, grabbing a stack of papers from her desk. “You’ve all been keeping up with our Scarlett Letter readings, right?”

In response, the class groaned an affirmative. Michael knew for a fact that over half of the class was lying.

“Good,” Mrs. Kowaleski continued, “Because today we’re starting our group projects.”

She walked around the room, handing out the project information. As she went she would touch two nearby students on the shoulders and say, “You two are partners,” like she was a priest giving them their new Christian names. Eventually she came around to Michael’s desk and touched his shoulder.

“You two are partners,” she said, addressing Michael and Jeremy. Michael tried not to be offended by how Jeremy looked like he was about to throw up. Or how, once they’d been left alone to start working, Jeremy begged the teacher to let him switch partners.

But once he’d returned to his seat, unsuccessful, Michael couldn’t help but feel angry. They were best friends not even three months ago, and now Jeremy couldn’t bear to breathe the same air as him for more than half an hour.

“Do you really hate me that much?” Michael asked, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice.

“God, Michael, no!” Jeremy cried, suddenly in tears, “Of course not, I just…”

Jeremy trailed off, fiddling with his hands and staring at the ground. His eyes were wide, scared, not angry or hateful. Slowly, Michael placed his hand on Jeremy’s, not at all shocked to feel them trembling.

“Is it Eric?” He asked.

Jeremy shook his head. “No,” he said, “No, Michael, you don’t get it, it’s- it’s me, it’s all me, it’s my fault, I ruin everything and now you hate me and it’s my fault and I don’t know what I did but I’m so, so sorry Michael, I-”

He choked off a sob and Mrs. Kowaleski must have noticed because she put a hand on his shoulder, knelt down in front of him, and asked in a soft voice, “Do you need to go to the counselor?”

Jeremy shook his head and, after a few shuddering breaths, forced his breathing to return to normal. Michael continued to hold his hand, careful not to move, just holding and letting himself be held- a steady reassurance that neither of them would have to be alone.

They didn’t get much of their project done that day.

 

The next time Michael called Jeremy in the middle of the night, it was entirely on purpose. They’d almost finished their project together and Michael was tired of the dancing around the obvious, of Jeremy ditching him every single time his boyfriend texted and freezing up whenever Michael tried to confront him. Most of all, though, he was tired of feeling like there’s nothing he could do about it. So as soon as he heard Jeremy pick up, he all but yelled, “You know he’s abusing you, right?”

Jeremy made some kind of choked noise. There was a thump, like he’d fallen off his bed, and then Jeremy finally responded. _“Wha- Who, my dad?”_

“No!” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t going to be easy. “I mean, not that I know of, anyways. I’m talking about Eric.”

He heard Jeremy inhale sharply. Michael paused a second to see if he’d respond, but when he didn’t hear anything, he continued.

“Listen I- I was in the bathroom on Halloween, right? I don’t know if you remember, but I saw you, and I know you saw me, and I saw- whatever the hell you call what he did to you. That’s not okay.”

_“…I was pretty drunk that night, I’m not- I don’t, uh, remember much, I think.”_

“Okay,” Michael sighed, running his hands through his hair. That just made everything worse. “Okay, that’s okay, Jeremy. Let me- just- give me a second-“ Because Jeremy was hurt so bad and Michael _saw_ it and now Jeremy was saying he didn’t even know he was hurt so Michael has to tell him, right? Jeremy deserves to know.

But how do you even say that to someone? ‘Hey, sorry I saw your boyfriend whip you and rape you, and I did nothing to stop it, here’s a fruit basket because I feel bad for you.’ How- How should he-

 _“I’m sorry M-Michael, I’m- You don’t have t-to- shit, this is- is my fault, you’re having a panic attack and it’s my fault and now_ I’m _having a panic attack, wow-“_

“I’m not having a panic attack, Jeremy, I’m just- thinking, okay?”

 _“You’re just- sorry- you’re breathing pretty hard- I’m so- I mean-“_ His voice was starting to break and raise in pitch, which meant he was starting to freak out, and Michael was _not_ prepared to deal with that right now, so he had to get this over with.

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy gulped, his voice shaking. _“Um, y-yes?”_

“At the party. I saw Eric… I saw him beat you. With his belt. A lot. And- and he made you- do things. To him.” It was so easy to remember, now that he’s talking about it. The images sprang into his mind of his best friend on his knees, back torn and bloody, expression hidden from view as hands clutch the back of his head-

“Fuck!” Michael yelled, slamming his head into the wall and focusing very hard on the pain.

_“Michael, what happened? Are you alright?”_

“You’re asking me if _I’m_ alright?!” Michael’s hands shook and his eyes burned. “I have nightmares, I can’t go into public bathrooms, it scares the shit out of me just seeing you next to him, no I’m not fucking alright!”

They weren't the right words. Michael knew he should be focused on Jeremy's well-being, but the anger bubbled up and exploded before he could stop it. He knew his moms probably heard that, too, and that should make him fucking terrified, but all he cared about was getting Jeremy to say something, anything, that didn't make Michael feel completely helpless.

Jeremy’s voice was disturbingly level as he mumbled, _“I’m sorry.”_

“Don’t apologize, Jeremy,” Michael begged, tears running down his face, “Please don’t apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

They stayed like that for a minute, silently waiting for the other to say something, until Jeremy hung up the phone.

Later, one of his moms gingerly opened the door and wrapped her arms around him, letting Michael cry into her shoulder. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about it, not yet, but he couldn’t help but think about how no one had held Jeremy like this in a very long time.

For the moment, though, he let himself be comforted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand a teeny tiny bit of comfort bc i felt bad.
> 
> i'm trying to make the adults an actual presence here bc i feel like parent/child comfort is an untapped resource in many hurt/comfort fics but also i do not have the energy to write a whole scene with michael and his moms. it'll come though, i promise.

**Author's Note:**

> i've had a super shitty day. kind of a shitty week, really. so i wrote this bc i like to hurt characters i relate to. i'll probably go back and fix all the typos or whatever later bc im not in a good state of mind to do any editing.
> 
> i wanted to show that trauma isn't always something happening to you- witnessing something, hell, just knowing something horrible happened to someone you love can be traumatizing. thats why i'm mostly following Michael and his journey. i know its pretty bleak at the moment but i promise- there is a happy ending waiting at the end of this.
> 
> the title comes from The Cave by Siames, I highly recommend everything they've ever made.
> 
> also this is saved in my computer as "Traumadachi Life".


End file.
